Honesty
by EsophagealEruption
Summary: What do you want from me?"
1. Downhill

Haha! My first Gravitation fanfic and probably only, psychedelic! Well, here's the gist of the story: There isn't really one, it's just a fiction inspired by the song "Honesty" by Rodney Atkins. It's the longest I've ever done, too, I think. Well, attempt enjoyment!

Shuichi Shindou sighed, not wanting to sing. Fujisaki Suguru, the lead keyboardist in Bad Luck, and Hiroshi Nanako, high-school companion and lead guitarist, were ready to maul him into a bloody pulp for not trying today, as were K and Rage, especially. Well, the latter may have just been annoyed that Shuichi wouldn't tape himself and his lover, Yuki Eiri, going at it. Sometimes he wondered why Americans were so...obsessive. K and his guns, Rage and her gay Japanese men obsession... He often wondered how many Americans were this crazy. He sighed again, letting his head flop on the mike, making it squeal painfully in everyone in the studio's ears. His head shot up, and he flashed a nervous, joking smile around the room.

"Sorry guys, I'm just...Kind of out of it today, I guess," he said apologetically, looking down to avoid his friends' gazes.

"Shuichi, we have to have the album recorded soon, and I need you to work on it. Much. Much. HARDER." Rage said roughly, glaring daggers at the entire group. Even after the months she'd been with them, she still never failed to instill fear in all of them. Except K. K didn't seem to fear anything.

"Well..."Shuichi said, then gave up talking. He sang through the song once more with the group, and decided it was time to bail.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he said placidly, leaving the room and heading down the hallway. The pink-haired male entered the bathroom, waited two minutes, then looked out of the bathroom. Left, right, left. His amethyst-colored eyes scoured the hallway, and, noting it devoid of people, save a new, green-haired secretary. He dashed out the door, then to the stairwell exit, and ran down them as quickly as possible, to the ground floor, and out the door. He hadn't been caught – yet. He zoomed down the street, and hailed a cab. One came quickly, and he hopped into it. He gave them he and Yuki's home address – they had been living together for two and a half years, now – and waited.

The cab driver shrugged, and carefully went onto the street, going at a snail's pace with traffic. Suddenly, a loud "BANG!" emitted from the back of the car. The cab driver cussed in surprise, and Shuichi flinched, but only slightly.

"Drive faster, and less carefully," he said, unusually calm, "There is a crazy blond American shooting at your cab."

The cab driver looked at Shuichi as though he were crazy, checked his mirrors, and, having been assured after a second bang to the back of his vehicle, complied with Shuichi's command. Within minutes, they'd lost the blond, and Shuichi was at his home address. He paid the cabby, and stepped out of the cab onto the curb. It drove away hurriedly, eager to be rid of its disaster-attracting magnet. A shot rang out down the block – K had probably spotted the cab again, and, since Shuichi had found and removed the tracker K and Rage had planted on him in the vehicle, he immediately felt sorry for the cabby he'd left it with.

That wave of remorse quickly passed, though, and, as he heard squealing rubber in the distance, he entered his home. Yuki wasn't there, now – he was at a book signing in, what was it, Kyoto? Or was he supposed to go farther away this week? Regardless, he wouldn't be home for a few hours, at the very least. The pink-headed man considered calling his blond lover, but decided against it. Better not to pull on the already tense strings of their relationship. Lately, Eiri had been much more reclusive, biting, and snappy all-around. He'd been working on his novels overtime, taking extra vacations and such to avoid the tension at home. Shuichi wondered if it'd had anything to do with the marriage they'd attained in Spain last year. Come to think of it, things had begun, only slightly, going downhill then. He recalled how sweet Eiri had been before that, how honest, considerate, sincere, tender, and trusting he'd been. How he'd said "I love you," at least once a day, called when he was away, and kissed him without having been asked to, needed to, or whatever. He remembered when they had actually been in love. Now, it seemed, that he was nothing more than a token, just a person taken for granted. There to talk to, relieve of all tensions – emotional, physical, mental, sexual. Shuichi felt used up, unneeded, and most of all, unwanted and burdensome. Sure, Shuichi made a fair chunk of money being in Bad Luck, and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself... But anywhere was so empty without Eiri at least remotely nearby. Shuichi sighed, wanting to cry, but knowing he wouldn't just yet.

He threw his jacket on the couch, and took off his shirt, throwing it on the ground. He walked to his bedroom, removing his clothing as he walked. In minutes, he was in his room, and in his boxers. He stepped into the nice bathroom that Eiri let him use since they had separated rooms. Honestly, it was like they were just roommates now instead of mates. Roommates that occasionally slept together, used to have had a meaningful relationship that appeared to have lost its spark. He turned on the water, and slipped out of his boxers, and into the shower. The water scalded him a little, and he turned the cold on a little higher.

Now he could cry. He just let go right then, sobbing into the water. So warm, and rough, it beat down on his back and soothed him massively, even as he mourned the loss of his living mate. He didn't really know how it'd gotten to be this bad, how he'd gotten to have been such a nuisance. He was clueless as to how his relationship with the author had stretched to its last strings. It could have been the marriage, living together, the family strain, overtime on his novels, or overtime on Shuichi's albums... Or it could have just been a fling. A two-year, life changing, difficult, slow, fling. A fling in which Eiri Yuki had used him, realized his faults, and decided to move on. He vacantly wondered how he would get a divorce.

He sighed, and washed himself. Showering was so oddly soothing. He stayed in the shower for an hour. Then two hours. Then he got out, all cried out, pruny, soppy and dripping. He wrapped the towel around himself and sat on the floor. It was clean – the house-maid had been here earlier. He sighed, and wrapped his arms around his knees, and sat there. Another hour passed, and his hair was almost dry. Shuichi propped his head up on his knees. Having matured, albeit very slightly, over the last few years, he wondered why there had been no sign of K or Rage yet – surely the crazies knew he was here. Maybe the realized he needed space. Maybe Hiroshi had convinced them.

There was a loud slam, and Shuichi snapped his head to the left, where it had come from. He must've thought far too soon.

"Shuichi!" Eiri's voice rang out harshly. "What did I ask of you while you lived here? Don't leave your damn clothes laying around anymore!"

Shuichi reached up slowly and turned off the bathroom light. He heard Eiri open the door to the bedroom, and then the dull plop of his jeans, shirt, socks, shoes...And the slamming of the door to his room. He sat alone in the dark for a moment. He heard soft footsteps come towards him, and stop at the door. He looked at the door – three slivers of light came in, two shoes blocking it from being one ray. He was breathing quietly, he thought. He heard a head thunk loudly against the door, and a sigh. The shoes went away, and one perfect ray was there. Then it was dark again.

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It's so short! I know, I know. I won't promise the other ones to be longer, either, because I don't know that they will be. Maybe. I just find it difficult to read long passages on , but it's also difficult to read three paragraphs in a fifty-chapter story, too, huh? Even though this one will only be three or four, at best. I will at least attempt to make them a little longer, but zero guarantees, because I don't want to let anyone down. Thanks for reading, please review, too!


	2. Slipping

Well, I made it to the second chapter. Unbelievable, for me, anyways. Well, this one is really Yuki-centric. And excruciatingly short. :D Sorry about that, but...Yes.

* * *

Eiri Yuki looked out of the window of his Saab Cabriolet. It was raining. He let his head fall forward, and it hit the horn. A black-haired woman strode out of the hotel he'd been staying at, and lithely climbed into his car with a green handbag he'd bought her. "So," she drawled, "Wanna go at it again? Maybe a blue purse, mm?" He didn't say anything, and pulled out of the lot. Thirty miles later, he dropped her off where he'd found her. On the side of the road. "Get out of my car." he said, unlocking the doors. She left haughtily, slamming the door behind her. He pulled away, and began the drive back to Tokyo.

For almost two hours he'd been driving – traffic was bad – and he pulled off the road and parked. The blond killed the ignition, then stepped out and locked the car with the key chain lock. The keys were promptly tucked into his pocket, and he went for a brisk walk. At a roadside vendor, he purchased an overpriced cup of coffee, and strolled. Just walking. It was midday, and warm. The rain let up about thirty minutes ago, and the air was fresh with rain scent, and it was like walking in a warm, soothingly wet mist. The trees in the park were in bloom, and looked alive, as though they were growing right before all the eyes of the passerby. Eiri Yuki glanced around. This, he recalled, was where he'd met Shuichi, his husband. He recalled the wretched lyrics, that song, "Gravitation". He knew it was why he was with him - "Gravitation". Now, how odd it sounded. Husband. Back then, about a year or two ago, it had seemed...Fairy-tale like. A dream – like in one of his novels. It was a time of perfection, where nothing else mattered. Then, something had happened. He couldn't truly explain it, but there was a slight shift in Eiri's thinking, almost like a tie-down in reality. Whatever had happened, it had made him tenser, and more susceptible to argue. Subconsciously, he feared being alone, but he feared this commitment, as well. He was afraid that maybe he'd made a bad decision.

Regardless, he'd changed over the years, and, undoubtedly, caused Shuichi to change, too. Eiri had seen it, he knew he had, the new, fresh pain in his lover's eyes when he requested that they bed separately, and that same, damaged look when he left after a one-night-stand. With his own husband. What had happened? The blond felt as though he were holding Shuichi back, taking away the vibrancy the pink-haired boy – no, he was a man now – had years ago. He felt like he was using him. He was sure he was. It was time to make a decision. A decision for the better – one that would benefit both of them. A divorce would solve it – Yuki didn't need to worry he was stealing someone else's life – he wouldn't worry that he was taking Shuichi's opportunities, chances, soul, mind, body, and love for his own need.

Yuki did love Shuichi, however. It was because he loved him that he did what he did, and what he would do. It had to be soon, though. The blond thought dully, pausing in the intersection of where he'd first read those wretched lyrics, if he was insane. Letting go of the one person who'd made him happy, who made life livable, who had basically forced him come to terms with himself. Shuichi had given him so much – Shuichi had given him life. He owed as much to the pink-haired singer. He owed this boy, this man, a life. A beginning. A middle. An end. Preferably happy one – not one like this, where he was miserable. Finishing his drink, he tossed it away. He went to his abode, not so humble, and began to ponder how, exactly, he would go about this breaking up. As Neil Sedaka sang, breaking up is hard to do.

He slipped back into his vehicle, and drove the rest of the way home. He parked the Cabriolet, and locked it. The keys returned to his pocket, and he stepped out, and went into the house. Clothes on the floor. He might as well try to make Shuichi not like him much before he tried to break it off. He yelled about the damn clothes, yatta yatta, and threw them in his room. He turned on the light, and heard a muffled click. He walked to the bathroom door in this room, and stopped. He heard quiet breathing. He sighed. Shuichi was hiding from him, again, obviously. He let his head fall, and it hit the door. He'd screwed poor Shuichi up so very badly, he thought. He felt terrible about this mess he'd built for him.

He turned the knob. Unlocked. He went back to the living room, grabbing a light throw and a pillow from the couch. He went into the bathroom, silent as a snake in the night, slipping through the reeds. Carefully, he placed the pillow under Shuichi's head, and removed the towel in favor of the colorful throw. It would keep his significant other, his man, his companion..warm and more comfortable than not.

Oddly, he sensed a nagging sense of having been here before. In this situation. He left the room quietly. He needed relief. He needed acceptance, but he didn't know this, not yet. Subconsciously, he needed to be loved, still, and needed acceptance. He needed to be wanted, required. He needed to know that he was not obsolete and burdensome. Naturally, he did not know this – it was subconscious, as has been stated, and he had never come to terms with himself, or at least he had not fully done so, perhaps. He needed Shuichi like air, and right now, he was drowning himself, but wouldn't admit it. That was part of his problem, he supposed – admitting. It was probably part of the problem between him and Shuichi, but he didn't want to think that. His communication since he'd met the pink-haired fellow had drastically improved, but then, recently, those newly attained skills began to crumble again. He'd stopped calling, stopped talking so much, stopped, well, everything, because he was afraid of taking away everything, or, maybe, everything being taken away. This really was troublesome. Eiri thought carefully.

The blond sighed, and threw himself on his plush couch. He thought, and thought. He was going to do it. Soon. Tomorrow night. Soon. He couldn't let this charade play on any longer. These were his last thoughts as he drifted to sleep. These last thought were accompanied by doubts. Did he really want to let this go? No, no he didn't. But he was taking. He thought Shuichi would leave, for someone more generous, more open. He was afraid he would be left to fend for his own sanity, alone, deft to fall apart alone. He could not have that. If anything, he would have to be the one to sever this relationship, so that this despair would be his own undoing, not the fault of any other lover's. He didn't want to be left. He feared this, being left, but this fear he wouldn't recall. He was too asleep, was too far from the complex that stores memory, even a last-minute epiphany. And then, there was no more thought, just an empty, wandering sleep.

Well that was pretty rambling, I guess. Kind of a peek into the why, which might help in the other chapters. Really, I had trouble with this one, which is why it is so short, I think Yuki was too difficult for me. Moo cows can be colorful, please review!


	3. High before Low

WOW. Third chapter. I can't believe it. Even though it's a sketchy plot, and kind of stapled, I kind of like it, and I hope you do, too. Really! Please read this and the last chapter, then review. You'd make me week. 3 Unless it was Saturday. Then you'd make my day.

--

Shuichi woke. He'd fallen asleep a long time ago. His mouth was dry, and he was achy and sore all over. He picked up his head, and noted something was amiss. The bathroom door was open. He was covered with a light throw, not a towel, and there was a couch pillow under his head, with a note. Shuichi glanced at it, and stood, then stretched. He picked up the things on the floor, and wondered how Eiri had learned to be so quiet. He picked up the note, and the other things, and slipped into his room. Before reading it, he dressed quickly. He sat down his bed, and clicked on the night stand lamp. He glanced at the clock – 5:45 AM – he'd been sleeping for hours. Showering and sleeping were such amazing stress relievers, although he knew he shouldn't rely on them so much. He read the note. It read, in his lover's casual elegant script, "Shuichi, meet me at the Grille tonight. Eiri."

Shuichi let a smile grace his lips, momentarily. This could either be extremely good or extremely bad. He hoped it was the previous, but decided it was better to fear for the best, and pray for the worst, due to the odd balance life likes to take. He left the house soon after, leaving for work a little early.

However, traffic was heavy that morning, unfortunately, and he was still late, despite his efforts for promptness. He was briefly yelled at upon arrival, and then immediately put to work warming up with Fujisaki and Hiro. Decidedly, today went much better than the last set – maybe the best in months. Sakano, K, and Reiji were equally pleased at the change in quality, and assumed the problems between Shuichi and Yuki must be smoothing out somewhat, or maybe Yuki was leading Shuichi to believe such. Either way, production had been at a virtual standstill for weeks now, and the change was good, regardless.

"Good job, guys. You've actually earned a break, today," Sakano said, even as Reiji rolled her eyes and muttered a nonsense about they should work like this for at least a month before they should even be allowed sleep, with all the crap they'd been getting by on as of recent. K agreed with Reiji, and openly contemplated shooting Sakano. The three musicians let the banter of whether or not a break should be given, and slipped quietly out of sight, a process so practiced, they were gone for at least five minutes before Reiji noticed.

"Ugh! You idiots, they got loose! Ah, whatever, they'll come crawling back in thirty minutes-" she said, and K finished her sentence.

"Unless they want to be mauled and – or shot at."

Sakano sighed. Why did he have to work with lunatics? He left K and Reiji to ponder on death and torture methods, to his own break.

--

"Guh, finally. We 'earned a break'. S'been _ages_ since we _earned _one," Fujisaki smiled, linking his fingers together and stretching them back over his head.

"Yeah, you're always to depressed to sound good, Shu, or Fujisaki is too overworked to do anything," the brunette guitar commented.

"Oh, so you're perfect?" snapped the keyboardist.

"Yeah, pretty much. So, Shuichi, what's been up?"

Shuichi hesitated, then admitted, "Yuki and I... Our relationship has hit a rock patch."

Both of his other band mates gave him a sarcastic look and rolled their eyes almost simultaneously. "Oh _really_ now?" said Hiro. "We would have _never _guessed," added the green-haired boy dramatically.

Shuichi gave them a soft glare, and told them about the note Eiri had left. Hiro said it might be good, it might be bad. Fujisaki said there were other fish in the sea, and that Shuichi shouldn't have put up with Eiri this long anyways. He received a slap to the back of the head from Hiroshi, and thus kept quiet then on.

"I don't know what to do, what if...," Shuichi paused, not really wanting to say it. It was logical and acceptable in his head, but to say it was so...Defining, so _plausible_. He didn't want it to be real, possible, defined, anything at all.

"He decides to leave?" Hiroshi asked solemnly, and continued, "I don't think...I don't think it will come to that." He wrapped his friend in a hug. "No, I don't think he'll do that, Sugar-Shu."

Shuichi sniffled, and said in a pout, "Don't call me that. It's.."

"Childish, I know. It'll be fine even if he does. You have me 'n Fujisaki."

Fujisaki patted Shuichi shoulder, but didn't say anything.

"Yeah. Either way, it's all over soon," pinkie partially agreed.

"But still, seriously. Don't call me that. Ever."

"No promises."Hiroshi said playfully, messing up his best friend's hair.

For the first time in a long time, Shuichi genuinely smiled.

--

HAHA it's SHORT. Because I'm forseriously lazy..and...I'm listening to the "Shadow Games" song for Yugioh. It's kind of hard to concentrate on Gravitation when I'm listening to a YuGiOh song.

Plus, I couldn't think of anything else for this section. The next section will be the last. Then it's on to the next one, right? Right. Please review! Even if it's just a "haha I like cookies" review. 3


	4. Forevermore

Final chapter. 3 Read please. 3

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Shuichi left work in a bit of a flurry. Due to the sudden, he wasn't sure, goodness? It didn't quite fit, but it fit well enough..The goodness of their music, Reiji and K had practically forced Sakano to force _them_ to stay a little later to milk the opportunity for all it was worth. So he'd stayed an extra two hours, and had only an hour and a half to meet Yuki. He hailed a cab, again, and told him the place. Slowly, the driver turned. It was the same from the other day. The man's face paled a good deal.

"It's okay, dude, I didn't cut out of work today, so I doubt the gun-wielder will get you today," he promised emptily, and produced a fair amount of cash from a pocket. The driver blanched some, but nodded and drove on. In ten minutes – driving at a normal speed without lead-induced adrenaline – they arrived outside of the shared house. Shuichi thanked the man and paid him the fare, plus a generous tip.

He sped into the house and cleaned up quickly, taking all of ten minutes to shower, clothe, and freshen up in general. He figured if he were female, he'd be one of the six-hour perfectionists – seemed like most of the guys he knew took all of three minutes to shower and clothe. Save Hiro, Hiro took forever 20 minutes. Forever. Same thing.. He glanced at the clock, and laughed at his rush. He had forty-five minutes, still. He set down his bag, and took to looking for his keys. Wretched things were always disappearing on him. Yuki, although not really agreeing with the make and model, had helped him find and purchase a '96 Isuzu Rodeo. Why? Shuichi didn't know, he just liked the way it was made. And there was a song about it – seriously, he had said, how many cars have songs about them? Yuki had laughed and made a snide, loving comment, and it was left at that. He finally found them, lodged in between the cushions on the couch. By that time, he figured he should leave – he'd wasted ten minutes looking for things, and he needed to get going if he wanted a decent parking spot and an on-time meeting.

Shuichi hopped into to his virtually candy-apple red Rodeo, and started her up. Strong X-Japan music came through the speakers, immediately wrapping him in immense sorrow. He switched to the radio. L'ArcEnCiel came through, mournfully. He turned off the sound system, and opened the garage door with an automatic opener. He eased out, closed the door, and headed into the evening traffic of Tokyo to the parking Garage closest to the Grille.

--

The vocalist cursed a little under his breath, slipping into the Grille three or four minutes later than he'd expected. Some guy had cut him off and almost caused him to crash earlier, then the SAME guy, he swore on his grave, went roaring through the parking garage and stole, yes, _stole_ the spot where he was going to park. The guy had been going the wrong way in the lot, too. He'd have been on time if people would learn to drive. He asked a waitress if she'd seen his meeting-partner. After a quick description, she nodded and ushered him to the table, and she asked him if he needed a drink, needed a certain kind of table, all this, all that. People didn't treat you normally when you were big, he'd learned, as well as having learned not to take advantage of it. He sat down, and she left, off to get the Nozz-A-La he'd ordered, he figured. He smiled. Nozz-a-La wasn't the real name, but Eiri called it that from time to time. Said he'd gotten it from a book.

"You're late," Eiri said calmly from behind the menu he was reading.

"Traffic," Shuichi replied complacently, picking up the other menu and then stared at it uninterestedly.

The waitress returned, and set down two drinks, Shuichi's Coca Cola (Eiri called it Nozza-A-La), and what looked (and smelled like Scotch for the blond novelist.

"Ready?" She asked brightly, totally oblivious to the obvious dark mood submerging the two at the table. Shuichi nodded and simply pointed at something on the menu. He didn't look at what he was pointing at, he wasn't really hungry, anything was okay to nibble on. Eiri simply replied, "I'll take what he's having." She left.

"Eiri," the pink-haired male said quietly, "What is it you wanted me for tonight?"

Eiri didn't reply. He just looked at him. This boy who had come to him years ago, wanting an apology for some honest criticism. A boy he'd watched come into manhood, or finish that process. Someone to whom he had released everything, all the stresses and worries of nearly ten years of a silent suffering. A boy – now a man, he supposed – who had made him whole, a 100 Eiri Yuki, a man with no secrets, and a clear conscious. Someone who had, arguably, saved his life. Was he really going to let all of that slip away? Possibly. He was in his, he supposed, midlife crisis. Or overreacting. He wasn't sure which, but part of him was convinced it was the latter. Subconsciously, he was afraid Shuichi would leave him, and he wanted to make sure that wouldn't happen. Maybe that incited this oddity. Maybe, he thought, I must leave him before he leaves me. It won't be so difficult then.

He is still unsure.

"I'm considering leaving you," the blond said, and his face twitched into a slightly surprised one. It had come out so blunt, so easily, he'd expected to at least stumble or stutter or something. But no, same as always, he was poker-solid, not in the least fazed, it seemed.

Shuichi's face fell – it seemed almost impossible, as it was already in a dreading look, but somehow, the kid could always go lower. He sighed and said dully, "I assumed as much."

Eiri had been a little more surprised at this – he was so absent in the latest weeks, he'd forgotten that Shuichi was very empathic, as well as intuitive. He hadn't known Shuichi could think so far ahead, or use such large words without making a face, and in such a proper manner... The waitress returned, setting down two salads. Neither of the men spoke, or gave her recognition, and she left quickly, somewhat startled.

Neither man spoke for about five minutes. Shuichi stared at the table, shock and grief not moving him. Detached seemed appropriate. Eiri was staring at him, waiting for the waterworks, mostly.

Shuichi looked up. "Do you want me to pack my things tonight, tomorrow? Do I have a leave time? Should I leave?"

At this, Eiri was speechless. Such maturity was really unexpected. The lack of tears, the lack of wailing...The presence of someone else. No, not someone else, Eiri presumed, someone older. Someone who has been broken by love, but rebuilt himself with new material to support the old.

Eiri didn't reply. Instead, he slipped a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a pen, a Bic ballpoint. He took one of the rough paper napkins, and handed it to Shuichi, the pen on top.

"Write me a list," he said, "Of the things you want from me. This will not be unfair."

Shuichi accepted the paper, and thought. He picked up a leaf from the salad he'd apparently ordered and stuck the tip in his mouth, nibbling at it as he thought. The pen tapped the table. Shuichi chewed. He wrote something down. Then another thing, and a few more things. Scratched something out, and wrote something else.

Eiri watched him do this. The kid was really thinking, he thought. He picked up his fork and ate a bite. It was actually a good salad, and he wasn't much into...vegetables. He thought vacantly about his Mercedes Benz and Saab Cabriolet, sitting in the garage, and his black Lambo outside. He thought about his summer house in Maui, and he thought about his place in the Honduras. He wondered if Shuichi would want these things, and wondered even more strongly if that was on the list. From the tap, tap, scribble, nibble, it did seem as though he were thinking. He wondered if Shuichi could spell Lamborghini, or if he remembered their trip to Maui, or anything. He took a sip of his Scotch. It didn't match the flavor of the salad very well, and he set it aside, settling for more of the greens instead.

Not three minutes later, Shuichi set the pen on the table. He read over his list twice more, and folded it in half, then placed the pen in the crease. He set it near Yuki's writing hand, then took a sip of his Coke. Yuki seemed to ignore the note placing, or simply reluctant to open it, and decided to eat more salad.

"It's good greenery," he said conversationally.

"I know."

Another few minutes ticked away. Eiri's salad disappeared. The blond had underestimated his own hunger. He took the napkin up, removing the pen firstly, and replacing it where it belonged. Shuichi paid no attention, but nibbled absently on another leaf, as he had been. Eiri was right, he thought, this is good greenery.

The novelist opened the napkin. There were inkblots and bleeds where Shuichi had tapped or been thinking, both presumably at the same time, even, and stains where the ink had gotten on his fingers and he'd wiped it off. In his heavy-like, childish handwriting, Shuichi had made a small list, a line over the title reading "What I Want From Eiri". Three crossouts, and underneath them, Eiri wouldn't know, or really care. The list was very simple, and comprised on "what we had before", underneath the title-line of the list. Under this, seven simple things: Honesty. Sincerity. Tenderness. Trust. A little less time for everyone else, and more for you and me. I love you everyday. The way things used to be – when you were in love with me.1

Eiri hung his head, and the list was hugged to his chest. Shuichi looked at him, rather shocked at such open emotion. He thought he heard sniffling. He was surely mistaken, he thought to himself. The list was clasped tightly in Eiri's hand, and lowly, the author spoke.

"I'm sorry I doubted," was all he said, and stood. Shuichi stood, as well, and hugged him. Eiri didn't respond for a moment, before returning the embrace. There was a light applause, scattered about the room. Shuichi tossed a bill on the table, and they left. Eiri walked almost blindly to his vehicle, still emotionally unstable, and not wanting to see those around him. Shuichi came with him, an arm still wrapped around his significant other.

Neither of them spoke until they reached the vehicle. Then, Eiri turned and embraced Shuichi fully. The pink-haired man returned the embrace, strongly as he could. He felt his cheeks start to get warm and damp.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Eiri said again.

Shuichi didn't reply, but hugged the other closer, almost wind-crushingly. He received a squeeze in return, as tight as his own.

"I would never leave," the vocalist said finally, with certainty lacing his slightly wavering voice.

"I know," Eiri said.

"Stay with me tonight?" Shuichi asked, the lace of certainty no longer there.

"Yes," Eiri replied, "Tonight and forevermore."

And they had lots of fun and babbies and lived happily ever, THE END.

8D

Well, mostly. I might post an epilogue that ups the rating later, but probably not, because I'm not good at...The rating-raising 'involvements'. I like reading them, though. --U

Anyhow, that's it. I kind of rushed through these last chapters, because I wasn't 'feeling' this story anymore, so... Chapters 3 and 4, they were done in the same day, in two and a half hours. I have a reason, but not a good one. The inspiration died. But... I like it. It's better than NOT finishing it, I think. I actually kind of finished something. For once in my life.

Please review, even if you want to tell me it sucked, if it owned, or if you want to tell me your favorite color. It would be really appreciated. Forsrlsly.

1These are mentioned in the lyrics, totally nonverbatim.


	5. Honesty

Alright, this isn't the epilogue that might happen. These are the lyrics that inspired the song. I DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT CLAIM ANY RIGHTS TO THESE LYRICS WHATSOEVER. THE SONG IS THAT OF RODNEY ATKINS, WRITTEN BY SOMEONE WHO IS NOT ME, AND I LAY NO RESPONSIBILITY IN THE CREATION OF OR PERFORMANCE OF THESE LYRICS.

Thankyoucomeagain.

* * *

**"Honesty"**

He said: "Just think it over, and write me a list,  
"So we can figure out what we both deserve."  
She hardly could believe it, that their love had come to this:  
Dividing an' deciding his and hers.  
But she grabbed a paper napkin, an' asked the waitress for a pen.  
An' one by one, she wrote down what she wanted most from him.

"Honesty, sincerity, tenderness and trust.  
"A little less time for the rest of the world,  
"And more for the two of us.  
"Kisses each mornin', 'I love you's' at night,  
"Just like it used to be.  
"The way life was when you were in love with me."

She reached across the table an' placed it in his hand,  
An' said: "You know this isn't easy for me."  
As he thought about the new car, the house an' the land,  
An' wondered what that bottom line would be.  
An' a thousand other things that she'd want him to leave behind,  
But he never dreamed he'd open up that napkin and find:

"Honesty, sincerity, tenderness and trust.  
"A little less time for the rest of the world,  
"And more for the two of us.  
"Kisses each mornin', 'I love you's' at night,  
"Just like it used to be.  
"The way life was when you were in love with me."

Well, he fought back the tears, as he looked in her eyes,  
An' said: "I don't know where to start."  
An' she said: "Everything on that list in your hand,  
"Is hidden somewhere in your heart.

"Honesty, sincerity, just like it used to be.  
"The way life was when you were in love with me."


End file.
